


Samothes and the Wolf

by LuckyDiceKirby



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 08:56:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8884792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuckyDiceKirby/pseuds/LuckyDiceKirby
Summary: Once, when the world was still young, Samothes chanced upon a wolf in the woods.





	

The Creed of Samothes is built messily upon a broken foundation. This is true of most things, in the wake of the erasure. Customs have been lost, and rebuilt crudely out of whatever can be found nearby: culture, now, is a patchwork, vibrant and bewildering and comforting in turns.

Hadrian learns that the Church works within the confines of the past to shape the future. The past is more solid than the present. Or at least, it often seems that way. 

Hadrian has loved the Church of Samothes since before he could speak. He is not yet thirteen, and sits often by the fire in the hearth of his home. When it is not lit, he goes and sits at the church, which is the next best thing. The church is always full of warmth.

He listens while the prelate tells stories. Hadrian doesn't like most stories; they feel too cheap, their endings unearned and easy. In a broken land, there are many hopeful stories, stories of heroic adventurers and thrilling battles and spectacular endings. 

Hadrian hates those stories. He has no taste for lies. The stories that the prelate tells are different. They're true, all of them--tales of the wonder our lord Samothes has wrought. 

Hadrian knows about truth. Truth can't be found in books, in uneven histories and incomplete accounts. Truth is a divine thing, not something for mortals to discover. Truth is found in the light of a fire, in the clarity of morning prayer, in the righteous ache of his arms when he swings a sword. 

The prelate tells only true stories. Hadrian loves them with all his heart. 

His favorite is the story of Samothes and the wolf. 

It goes like this:

Once, when the world was still young, Samothes chanced upon a wolf in the woods. The woods were dark, but Samothes was not afraid. Samothes could draw light to himself with a word, our light-bringer and savior. The woods shrunk back from him, fearful of his glow. The trees wound their branches away, and brambles parted from his path. 

The wolf, however, stood its ground, crouched in the fork between two trees. 

"Hello," Samothes said to the wolf, because our lord is kind to travellers, and offers them his protection. 

In response, the wolf snarled.

But Samothes was not dissuaded. He rummaged through his pack, and withdrew a bunch of grapes, offering them to the wolf. 

The wolf rose up on its haunches, teeth still bared.

Samothes beckoned it closer, and in time, the wolf acquiesced. Its snapping jaws caught only the fruit in Samothes' hand.

The wolf did not thank Samothes for his kindness, but it opened its mouth to speak. "Where are you going? These woods are dark, and filled with shadows. It is not safe."

Our lord Samothes, who is safe wherever he walks, replied: "The woods are not so dark while I am here. But perhaps you could help guide me through them?"

The wolf could see that Samothes spoke the truth. And like all living things, the wolf was drawn to Samothes' brilliance. The wolf had lived long in the dark of the woods. It could not help but wish to follow the light.

"I will lead you through the woods," the wolf said. "But in return, you must take me with you when you leave. I am very cold."

Samothes, in his compassion, saw that this was true: the wolf was a young and newly born thing, with limp hair and wild eyes. Wolves are by nature vicious creatures, unless they are tamed. And sometimes they remain so, even then. 

"All right," said Samothes, and the two continued through the woods together. They travelled in silence for several miles, as the wolf carefully picked its way through the forest, Samothes at its heels. 

They came first upon a river, its waters too swift to cross. The wolf stopped walking. "We cannot pass," it said. "I do not know how to get across the river."

Samothes, in his wisdom, smiled at the wolf. "I do," he said, and he pulled an axe from his bag. He felled several nearby trees, and built a bridge strong enough to carry himself and the wolf across the river. 

"Thank you," said the wolf, speaking more pleasantly than before. The wolf now wished more than anything to leave the forest. Having had a taste of Samothes' warmth, it did not wish to remain in the dark. "Can you teach me how to build a bridge?" The wolf was curious, and had quickly grown bored in its time in the forest.

"No," said Samothes. "Wolves cannot build bridges. And anyway, as long as you remain by my side, I can build bridges whenever you need them."

"I suppose," said the wolf, who was unconvinced but loyal.

Samothes and the wolf traveled for several more miles, but now they spoke to one another, trading stories. The wolf did not have many stories to tell, and the ones it had were muddled and without endings. Samothes, of course, had many great tales, and he related them to the wolf with gusto. The wolf's tail picked up. It knew so little--the forest, of course, was very small. It longed to know of the world beyond its borders. 

The wolf and Samothes were still talking, enraptured by one another, when the beast attacked them. The beast was cloaked in shadow, and its claws tore deeply into Samothes' chest, just above his heart. 

Samothes reached for his axe. But the wolf was quicker. It snapped at the beast with sharp teeth. The wolf was smart, and knew the ways of life and death well. It went for the throat.

The beast fell to the ground, limp, before Samothes could pull his axe free from his pack. The wolf pawed at the beast, just once, long enough to ascertain that it would not make a good meal. 

"Thank you," Samothes said, impressed by the wolf's strength and quickness. 

"It is only as we agreed," said the wolf, but it could not hide its pride. "This wood is full of beasts. The trick is to know that you are stronger, and to not hesitate to do what must be done."

"I'll try to remember that," said Samothes.

They were nearly to the edge of the forest now. Samothes found himself unexpectedly glad of his new companion, and the wolf felt the same. They both relaxed, knowing that the end of their journey was near. This was a mistake; the end of a quest is always the most perilous time. Just as the wolf thought he could see the sun peaking through the trees--or perhaps that was only the brightness of Samothes himself--a great thunderclap sounded, and a storm descended upon them, faster than seemed possible. 

"Quickly," said Samothes, "we must find shelter. But I don't know where to go."

"I do," said the wolf, who knew of cave nearby. It led Samothes there through the downpour, while the rain beat against their backs, and lightning flashed bright through the trees. 

The cave was dim and damp, the stone icy beneath their feet.

"We are safe from the storm," said the wolf, "but I suppose it will be a cold and long night." Both Samothes and the wolf were soaked to the skin. The wolf was not pleased, but it was used to nights like this.

Our lord Samothes, resourceful and all-knowing, found kindling and flint in his pack, and was able to gather brush that grew from cracks in the cave. He lit a fire, his eternal and undying gift, as the wolf watched him in amazement. And so together, the wolf and Samothes weathered the storm. 

The wolf had lived a lonely and vicious life. It knew what it was to be self-sufficient, or to offer reciprocity--but it had never experienced this, a sharing of resources, kindness born of feeling and not practicality. It had never felt true companionship. The wolf had weathered many rainstorms, but always alone.

Curled up between the fire and Samothes' light, the wolf let Samothes run his hands through its fur as it dried.

In the morning, the storm cleared, and Samothes and the wolf left the forest together. The wolf, unused to the sun and to the wide open spaces, was fearful at first; but in return for its help Samothes offered his own guidance. And so the light of Samothes, our lord, continued to spread, even to those creatures in the darkest and coldest of places.

"And?" Hadrian asks, when the prelate tells him the story this time. He senses the hint of a lie.

"And what?"

"That's where you always end the story. But what happened afterwards? There has to be more."

The prelate smiles. "You're a smart boy, Hadrian." He shakes his head. "The wolf remained Samothes' companion for many years. They shared food and water, and protected each other from hardship. And then one day, it attacked him. Samothes, in his strength and wisdom, was able to fend it off. But a wolf cannot change its nature, Hadrian. This is something you would do well to remember."

"I will," Hadrian says. It's a satisfying thing, to see the truth underlying a false kindness. 

A long time later, he recalls this story to Samot. It is part of an argument, a supporting point in Hadrian's insistence upon the rightness of his lord.

Samot listens, and then he laughs, with shining eyes. And he asks Hadrian if he would like to hear another story. 

"Stories are like coins," he says. "They have two sides."

Hadrian shakes his head. "I know that's not true."

"It's like I said, Hadrian," Samot tells him. "It's a matter of making a choice about what you believe."

**Author's Note:**

> hello, find me on tumblr or twitter at luckydicekirby. i'm very sad about these dumb gods every minute of every day.


End file.
